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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26506657">Back to Basics</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychicmewhealer/pseuds/psychicmewhealer'>psychicmewhealer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Baldi's Basics (Video Game), Cool Cat Saves the Kids (2015), Petscop (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Bad Decisions, Bad Ending, Boarding School, Brainwashing, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Co-Written, Cursed, Don't Read This, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fursona, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kindergarten, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Brainwashing, Past Child Abuse, Past Torture, Physical Abuse, Robot/Human Relationships, School, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Is STUPID, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Torture, Verbal Abuse, a night, bad everything, badly written child torture, but this is its only home, cool cat wILL COME but it will be a while, i farted this out in like, it's a torture school gang, rebirthing, so here i release it on ao3, that has ever been on this earth, this fic is the worst thing, why do all my fics have to have child abuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:32:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26506657</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychicmewhealer/pseuds/psychicmewhealer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Baldi wants to foster the architects of our future society. Marvin wants his friend back. Together, as husbands and co-runners of a boarding kindergarten, they relentlessly abuse kindergarteners, welding them into mindless automatons to be filled with Baldi's and Marvin's directives.<br/>That's before Baldi and Marvin realize their goals for the children are mutually incompatible.</p><p>--</p><p>Or: why is life</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Back to Basics</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>6:30 in the morning marked another day at school. Baldi stood at the entrance of his classroom, his students standing behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, class,” Baldi began. “Time to learn some math. Everyone, excited!” The blank faces of the crowd of six-year-olds behind him stretched into smiles. Baldi meandered towards his classroom. The crowd traveled behind him in a single-file line, each child exactly five inches apart from the next. Baldi sat in his spinning chair, and the students followed him inside. The first six students in the line walked to the back of the classroom and filled up the back row, all the next groups of six filling their rows simultaneously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone, calm,” Baldi said. The students' expressions turned cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The students in unison took out their notebooks and wrote the date. 8/6/1998.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baldi wrote</span>
  <em>
    <span> English</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the whiteboard. The students all followed suit on their notes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baldi continued writing on the board. </span>
  <em>
    <span>On September 2, 1977, Tiara did not eat chicken nuggets, but her fourth-favorite food, ___.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did she eat that day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A student in the center placed his hands on the desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tiara K?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Baldemor, pasta.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baldi took out a yardstick from next to him. He marched over to Tiara K’s desk, rolled back his shoulder, and wacked Tiara K on his upper back six times. Baldi returned to his desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did she eat?” Baldi repeated, more tempered than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took longer for students to answer. Five seconds in and he threatened to hit them all again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another student had her hands on her desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tiara DD?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Baldemor, Barilla ravioli with tomato sauce and extra Parmesan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baldi suppressed a nod. He wrote the next sentence down.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>On that same day, Tiara wore ___.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. B—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was someone to speak out of turn? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Baldi turned as red as he could get, pulled Tiara U from his desk by his collared blouse, and hit his buttocks as hard as he could with his ruler ten times. Tiara U. cried, only making Baldi hit harder. After ten more smacks Baldi returned Tiara U. to his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the students had their hands on their desks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Baldemor, a white blouse, pink skirt, green long socks, and purple slippers.” It was easy to remember. Every student wore that same outfit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However terrifying Baldi’s presence was, the students’ fear was exponentiated when Marvin came into play. The students knew this all too well as they made their way into the auditorium with Marvin at the podium.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Time to play the piano!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was purely probability that Tiara C, Tiara F, Tiara J, and Tiara EE all played something incorrectly in their repetitions of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Happy Birthday.</span>
  </em>
  <span> If you play something three hundred times a day, there will be a time you’ll mess it up. For every incorrect note they played, Marvin stuck his hand into their mouths to the point of asphyxiation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was 6 pm. Though feeding these kids was a strain to their budget, Baldi and Marvin needed these kids for their bottom line, and storing cadavers wouldn’t be as useful. The thirty-six Tiaras made their way into the dining hall, eating their store-bought, cardboard-tasting ravioli. Marvin and Baldi, meanwhile, sought solace away from the children, sneaking away to their joint headmasters’ quarters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think the parents think this is a school?” Marvin asked Baldi opening the door for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have the branding down,” Baldi reassured him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe, I did the parental testimony. You’re not the only one that did branding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I’m only in this for the children,” Baldi countered. “Meaning, </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>, kids. If you make this about your imaginary kid any longer, I’ll storm out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m in it for you,” Marvin half-lied. Baldi wasn’t just an asset. He was an </span>
  <em>
    <span>ass</span>
  </em>
  <span>-et.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure you are.” Baldi began getting undressed. “If you were you wouldn’t bug me about my one hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should shave it off. It suits you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you should wear maroon more. There. I said it. Jewel colors look better on you. Bright green doesn’t get you places.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen. We didn’t get married so you could get away with looking awful. You look best in your birthday suit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was planning on wearing it anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to shower first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be in your fursona for this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely.” Baldi slipped into his Cool Cat costume. Marvin slipped in the shower.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was lunch the next day. Marvin was fascinated by how, despite how many wounds he gave the children, they kept giving each other more. A real Tiara would never do such a thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Class.” Marvin nudged his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Tiaras followed him into a dark room with 36 pairs of goggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put them on,” Marvin commanded. The Tiaras obeyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The word </span>
  <em>
    <span>Petscop</span>
  </em>
  <span> was displayed on the glasses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Play till dinner.” The students knew they would miss their assigned curriculum for the day and be beaten for missed answers. But it could never get more painful than this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only escape was this game. Better catch Amber. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t make these kids play </span>
  <em>
    <span>games, </span>
  </em>
  <span>babe! This is a school, not a playhouse!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re forgetting the real goal here, Baldi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Bring back your lost friend? Beat it, Marvin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s gone. Get over it.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not if I can help it. No wonder you have no empathy for me—you’re just an android.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was created to help our children fulfill their greatest potential. Through academia, young people can enter the highest echelons of society and make our world better. I want a world of perfect people to make a perfect society. You just want to make your friend again. It’s not about who has empathy. It’s about who can get his head out of his selfish ass the fastest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For a Bill Gates monster-child, you sure can insult well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I don’t have emotions, Marvin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What. Does that insult you somehow? Despite your lack of feelings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is wrong that you say such things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you can’t feel emotions, why are we even together? It’s not like you can feel love.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have used me far too long, Marvin. I cannot feel, but I can think. I’m just your tool. A means to an end. Your aphrodisiac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You say that all the time as if that isn’t what you are, or what I am to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither responded to the other. Both were correct, and both would beat each other with a yardstick if they had. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At exactly 5 pm, the Tiaras gathered in the auditorium for their behavioral assessments. Though it was Baldi’s idea, Baldi took more rigorous notes on the Tiaras’ grievances, so Marvin assessed them on their grievances against Baldi and himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tiara A.” She came forward on the stage, sitting on the edge. “relieving self, 6:29 am.” Smack. “Speaking out of turn, 6:34 am.” Smack. “One kick on the desk, 6:39 am.” Smack. “Hand on the desk without having an answer, 6:39 am.” Smack. “Speaking out of turn, 6:40 am.” Smack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Improper expression. Repetition 63, Note 8, 2:36 pm.” Smack. “Improper expression, Repetition 89, Note 17, 2:38 pm.” Smack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tiara S…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tiara CC…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awake past curfew, 2:31 am.” Smack. Marvin was sick of it all. “Dinner time. Get out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the students left, Marvin let himself cringe at the blood that seeped into his shoe. “Baldi, you’re on cleanup duty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t the kids clean to develop character?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This whole assessment thing was your idea, so you clean it up. We’ve been over this, babe. I don’t care about education.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baldi huffed. “But I do! I’m the one who wants to make these kids into better people. All you want to do is make these kids into your friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marvin grabbed the bloody yardstick and rammed it into Baldi’s back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You forget I’m an android,” Baldi reminded Marvin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Mr. Windows 95, you can still error.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baldi straightened his back, grabbed the yardstick from Marvin, and slammed it on him over and over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marvin finally escaped. He slammed Baldi into the piano. Again, and again, and again. He took his nearby laptop plug and swung it at Baldi’s face. He took the desktop computer and smashed it on Baldi’s scalp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baldi was powerless. He kneeled on the bloody, shard-filled floor. “What do you want from me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m leaving you. Keep the school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Do your thing with it. Make the world better, whatever. I’ll bring back Tiara another way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unlike you, I can have kids.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you have no infrastructure without me! How will you make these kids into Tiara?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know how, Baldi.” Marvin opened the exit door, blowing him a kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I care.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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